I have yet to manage overcoming the self consciousness that make it impossible for me to blog on a regular basis. I don't know why I am so bothered by talking about myself. I'm constantly trying, and failing, to get past that.

I'm screwing up my nerve and admitting that things have been rough here for a couple of months. I have been going through a pretty severe bout of depression. Some would say I have a lot to be depressed about; the brink of financial disaster, illness, recent transitions resulting in a member of our household moving away, single parenthood, etc, etc. But over the years, most of these things have caused me anxiety but not depression. Not the kind of depression where I can barely scrape myself out of bed every day to slog through the motions of existing because it all suddenly feels meaningless, purposeless, soul-killing. But that's how it's been for a couple of months. I'm trying to fight my way through it, but I still don't feel like I'm winning yet.

Things are so bad financially. Two months of having to buy a lot more bandages than normal while we waited for medicaid to start paying for Cassie's medical supplies has crushed us. My rent has been late every month for the last three months, my van is not going to pass inspection next month without repairs, and we're starting to have a flea issue because I can't afford the monthly treatment for the cats. I'm considering rehoming some of them. The only other thing I can do is consider moving us again to a cheaper place, which is a really horrifying prospect, since we've only been here 15 months after two years living in a very low rent, high crime area because the rent was cheap. It makes me terribly sad that I've never been able to provide my children with a home base that was that one place they could always call home. We have moved so often that I feel like they've never really gotten to put down roots and feel that any dwelling is really home.